


Zero-Sum Game

by Rhialoviction



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Amnesia, Bondage, Caleb/Dean, Childhood Trauma, Forced Incest, Gag, Gen, Gunplay, Hurt!Sam, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicide Attempt, Temporary Amnesia, Trauma, Weecest, blindfold, brief - Freeform, hurt!Dean, ropes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-09-27 13:12:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10022123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhialoviction/pseuds/Rhialoviction
Summary: “Shh,” the intruder cooed in his ear.The man rubbed his jaw along the side of Dean’s face, almost like a caress.Dean breathed hard through his nose as he listened to the rumble of the impala fading away.  His father was gone.  Sammy was missing.  And Dean was clearly outmatched.  If he could just reach his colt-





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laying out the rules...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rape should not exist in real life, but unfortunately it does. I only write about it because this is fantasy, the only place it works.

Dean knew something was wrong the moment the motel door closed.  Sam wasn’t in the room.

Suddenly a hand was covering his mouth and his back was shoved hard against the door.  He fought against the attacker, struggling until he felt the barrel of a gun pressed to his side.

“Shh,” the intruder cooed in his ear. 

The man rubbed his jaw along the side of Dean’s face, almost like a caress.

Dean breathed hard through his nose as he listened to the rumble of the impala fading away.  His father was gone.  Sammy was missing.  And Dean was clearly outmatched.  If he could just reach his colt-

“Ah, ah, ah,” The man scolded, snatching away Dean’s wrist, his own gun digging further into Dean’s side.

A muscular arm snaked its way around the boy’s waist, jerking him forward so their chests were pressed together.  Dean snarled when the increasingly familiar man pulled Dean’s colt from his waistband, emptied the bullets, then tossed it across the room.

When the intruder took a step back Dean looked up to see the face of-

“Caleb?”

The older hunter smiled down, reveling in the boy’s confusion.

“Wh-what are you… where’s Sam?”

Caleb motioned with his gun for Dean to move away from the door, further into the room.  “He’s in there.”  Caleb pointed at the door that connected this room to the one next door.  “Pipsqueak is watching cartoons, safe and sound.  And that’s exactly how he’ll stay so long as you don’t make too much noise.”

“You son-of-a-bitch.  When my father finds out about this-”

“You really want him to find out?” 

Dean stumbled a bit when his calves backed into the bed. 

“You think he’ll look at you the same way?”

Dean bristled when Caleb licked his lower lip, confirming his fear about where this was headed.

“If you tell John-”

“He’ll kill you.  I don’t have to tell him, he’ll find out.  And you’ll be dead.”  Dean squared his shoulders.

Caleb laughed.  “He’d better not find out, or _he’s_ the dead man.  You think I don’t have more friends than paranoid, old, isolated Johnny?  The next time he needs backup on a case, whether it’s from me or another hunter, all it takes is one mistake, one bullet switched out with a blank, and daddy is as good as werewolf chow.”

Dean clenched his jaw, chin raised in defiance.

“Trust me.  If I get any wind that John knows, I make one phone call, he dies, and you and Sammy legally become mine.  Or, if John gets to me first, my buddies will avenge me and he still dies.”

“Wait, what?”

Caleb motioned to the legal documents spread across the work desk.

“Signed ‘em today.  Oh Dean, if your father trusts me to watch over you while he goes on a month-long hunt, he sure as hell trusts me to be your guardian.  All it took was a little booze and he was thrilled with the idea.”

“You son-of-a-bitch.”

“Watch it boy.  You wouldn’t want me to have my way with Sammy instead, now would you?  Cause I could make that happen.  And it will happen, if John’s out of the picture.  That’s a promise.”

Dean’s stomach roiled.  He dropped his eyes to the gun, then to the ground.  No way he was getting out of this one, at least he could protect Sammy from this monster.

* * *

Dean was naked, hands cuffed behind the wooden chair, waist and ankles strapped tight, silent while Caleb unpacked his equipment.

“No,” the boy said when he saw a blindfold being removed from the duffle.  “No way.”

Caleb sighed.  “Need I remind you who is in the next room?”  Caleb smirked.  “Let’s just say, Sam would be…unable to resist taking your place.”

Dean’s eyes faded to a dull gaze of acceptance.

Caleb approached the defeated boy and tied the blindfold tight around his eyes.

“There.  That’s not so bad, right?”

Dean remained silent.

Caleb nodded to no one and quietly made his way to the interconnecting door, which opened without a sound.  The hunter crept into the other room.  Easing open the bathroom door, where he soaked up the sight of Sammy bound and gagged, cowering in the bathtub, wearing nothing but boxers.

“Remember,” he whispered, “do exactly as I’ve said, and not a sound out of you or I paint the walls with big brother’s brains.”  He raised the gun up for emphasis.

Sam stifled a sob and hung his head.  He nearly yelped when he was suddenly hoisted out of the tub by his arms and shoved into the other room.  Sam fell to his knees, unable to catch himself with his forearms bound behind his back.  The boy started violently shivering when he looked up to see big brother in a similar state.

Caleb waited until Sam met his gaze, then cocked the trigger and held the gun up to Dean’s temple, ghosting over his hair an inch away.

Dean flinched, but couldn't really discern the meaning behind the sensation with his blindfold on.

Sam nodded and struggled to his feet.

The walk from here to Dean seemed like an eternity away, and yet too soon Sam found himself situated between Dean’s spread thighs.

Sam nearly whimpered as he lowered himself to the ground.

Caleb removed the gag, held a quieting finger to his lips, and motioned for the boy to begin.

Sam opened his mouth and leaned in.

Dean gasped when he felt a tongue lick his at member, tip to base.  He struggled not to enjoy the delicate ministrations, but after a few minutes, heat was pooling in his abdomen and he was felt himself growing hard.

In his mind he tried to be anywhere but here.

Both boys were panting by the time Caleb gave Sam the next signal.

With a silent sob, the youngest Winchester took his brother in his mouth and started sliding up and down.  Try as he might, he couldn’t take Dean any further until a hand at the back of his neck forced his head down.

Sam’s throat convulsed around the length, tears threatening to spill over as his face was ground against Dean’s coarse curls.

“Ch- choke on it, you bastard.”

The malice in Dean’s voice sent chills through Sam’s bones, and before he could react he was pulled off and tossed to the ground.

“Don't lie.  You like it, little bitch”

Sam looked up to see Caleb licking the side of Dean’s face.  He was shocked to see his own tears mirrored on his big brother’s face, sliding free beneath the blindfold.  Sam averted his eyes when Caleb started to viciously kiss Dean.

The grip on Dean’s jaw forced him to open for the plundering tongue.

As quick as it started, the stolen kiss ended and Dean jerked his head to the side to spit out the foul taste.

Caleb stood tall and appraised his handiwork.

“Time for the real fun to begin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope to write more on this and on my other works. Finishing stories seems to be a weakness of mine, since new stories always beg me to write them first. I'll figure it out someday.
> 
> Comments? Suggestions? Critiques?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The game begins...

Caleb cinched the bindings tight to secure Sam’s fragile wrists to the headboard. He took a step back and admired the knotwork.

“Wh-what are you doing?”  Dean shifted in his chair, uncomfortable with the prolonged silence and unable to see how his little brother was now splayed out, face down on the bed.

Caleb kneeled down to Sam's level and firmly grabbed the frightened boy’s chin. While burning his threat into the wide hazel eyes, he directed his voice towards the older brother.

“Patience,” he hissed, pressing a strip of duct tape over Sam’s quivering lips.  “And remember,” he held a shushing finger to his own mouth so the young Winchester would understand this message was meant for him as much as it was for Dean, “not a sound or Sammy's gonna be in a world of pain.” 

Caleb stood up, then slapped Sam’s ass, enjoying the squirms as the boy attempted to remain silent. “Or pleasure.”

The man sauntered over to Dean and caressed the young hunter’s face. Dean flinched, but did not pull away.

“Suck.”

Dean’s breath caught at the order. He prepared himself, stealing his mind away to get through this. He opened his mouth slightly to allow entrance for the warm flesh he knew was nearing, but was instead surprised when he felt the cold sting of metal gently sliding across his cheekbone.

 _Colt,_ his mind supplied.

Dean shuddered. The tip of the barrel slid along Dean’s lip, lingering for a moment before nudging forwards to slip past Dean’s valiantly parted teeth.

“Yeah, just like that. Get it nice and wet baby boy,” Caleb cooed. “It’s the only lube you’re gonna get.”

“Nhhmm.”

Dean closed his eyes behind the blindfold and let out a single sob. He ran his tongue along the metallic push-pull, trying to coat his own gun in as much saliva as he could. Too soon, the offending object was withdrawn, trailing a line of spittle from Dean’s mouth to the barrel.

Dean let his head fall forward, chest heaving, jaw clenching and unclenching.

Sam buried his face in the covers when Caleb turned and moved back to stand beside the bed. Caleb held the gun above the boy, flicking it so that drops of Dean’s spit landed on the bare, goose-bump-flecked back. Sam started to panic at the sensation, tried to sink deep into the mattress to get away from the icey waves shooting up his spine.

Caleb laughed. He pressed the gun to the base of Sam’s skull, then proceeded to lazily drag it down along the boy's naked skin. As it neared the cleft, several muscles suddenly tensed. Sam couldn’t stop his muffled yelp as the metal slipped between his cheeks.

Dean’s head shot up at the sound, full attention on the scene he could not see.

Caleb paused, frozen in his motions.

“There goes plan A.”

“You sunuvabitch,” Dean accused, temper rising.

“You said-”

Dean’s head snapped to the side from the force of the punch. Rage was replaced with horror as the blindfold came off and the room came into focus.

“Sammy…”

Sammy.

Naked and gagged.

Bound to the bed.

Worse than Dean’s worst nightmare, Caleb held Dean’s colt far too close to Sam’s exposed entrance.

Dean’s _no_ caught in his throat. 

“One bullet,” Caleb cocked the hammer, “one chance to trade places.”

Dean met Caleb's cold gaze, then glanced at Sam’s terrified eyes.

“Or else Sammy learns how to play a little Russian roulette.”

The elder Winchester pulled against his cuffs and struggled to get free. “Dammit! Let him go Caleb, don’t you touch him!”

“Is that a no?”

Caleb shoved the barrel against Sam in a mock thrust, hard enough to make Sam let out a shout behind the duct tape. Sam clenched his eyes shut, fingers curled into fists, and Dean realized just how vulnerable they both were.

“No,” Dean breathed.

Caleb misunderstood and squeezed the trigger.

“No!” Dean’s heart stopped for a moment, then slammed against his ribcage when the gun didn’t go off. “No, no, I mean wait!  I’ll do it.”

Caleb straightened up, a cruel smile painting his friendly features as he jerked the colt away from Sam’s small form.

Dean exhaled a gush of air, relief flooding his system until the menacing hunter began to approach him instead, closing in on his prey.

“Well,” Caleb cocked the gun's hammer again, "if you insist.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's late, typos might abound, and I have half of the next chapter written but I'm too tired to keep my eyes open... so I hope this is enough to satisfy for the moment...


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...and neither wins...

Caleb had sliced the ropes around Dean’s ankles, yanked the young hunter up from the chair by his shoulder, and shoved him forwards. Dean tripped over his own feet and landed on the end of the bed, torso on top of Sam’s legs.

“I’m sorry Sammy. I am so, so sorry.” Dean pressed his forehead against his little brother’s bare skin. “I didn’t kn- should’ve…I’m so stupid.”

Caleb had changed around the restraints so that Sam was now on his back.

“Alright big boy, let’s give little brother a better view.”

Dean was wrenched up by his cuffed arms to stand at the foot of the bed, his back pressed tight against Caleb’s chest.

A rough hand wrapped around his swollen member and started to stroke Dean back to full hardness. Dean grimaced when Caleb lined up the colt so it was flush with Dean’s dick, and aimed both at Sam.

“Fuck him,” Caleb whispered in his ear.

“What? No! You said…to use the gun on me, not…”

Caleb moved his hand to include the barrel as he jerked both the gun and Dean off.

“Come on, Dean-o. You said you’d take the gun’s place. Would you rather have a bullet explode into Sam, or your own incestuous dick." Dean's face reddened at the accusation, ashamed that it appeared to be true. "Time’s-a-tickin.”

With a click the hand-cuffs fell to the floor. Caleb retreated a few yards, leaving Dean with an impossible choice.

The young hunter checked over his shoulder, but Caleb was too far away to make any move that wouldn’t put Sam at risk of getting shot.

Dean swallowed, then crawled up the bed, over Sam's body, until his face was directly above Sam’s.

“It’s gonna be okay. It's gonna be okay Sammy.”

Sam nodded.

Dean suppressed his reaction to Sam’s immediate show of trust.

No need to add icing to the torture.

“This is probably gonna hurt, but I’ll do my best to…I’m gonna keep you safe Sam.”

Sam nodded again and Dean could feel the failure burrowing deeper into his core.

Shaky hands gently bent Sam’s knees to his chest.

Dean hesitated, then coated his fingers with more spit and tentatively placed his digit against Sam’s hole. He wished he knew the extent of Sam’s sexual experiences, but he was pretty certain that his brother had never done anything remotely like this before.

Dean slid his finger inside, fears confirmed when Sam furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

Before he could work Sam open, Caleb ordered him to stop.

Dean shot a questioning look at Caleb.  The man was lounging in an armchair, dick out, gun lazily pointed at the boys as he jacked himself off.

“Skip to the good stuff.”

“He’s not ready.”

“Do I care?”

The cold expression answered that question.

“Bastard,” Dean swore under his breath.

Dean pulled his finger out and brought his attention back to Sam, lying helpless beneath him.

“I need you to relax, can you do that for me Sammy? Relax your muscles?”

This time Sam remained still, no nod, no confirmation of his compliance.

Dean masked his sorrow, and lined himself up with Sam’s entrance.

“Sorry," he sighed.

Dean slowly pressed forwards, trying to retain eye contact with Sam so he could support his brother through the pain, silently let the boy know he was still there, not okay but at least not alone.

Neither Winchester knew whether this slow pace was better than the alternative, but Dean sure as hell wasn’t willing to rip that band-aid off. Dean bottomed out and just held Sam in his arms, head tucked against his chin.

The moment seemed to freeze, both brothers locked into place for an instant of eternity.

Vaguely Dean registered Caleb’s grumbles, but couldn’t care to listen.

His brother needed him.

He’d fucked up, but his brother still needed him.

Now more than ever.

“...too slow.”

The voice was right behind them.

Sam mumbled a warning before Caleb haphazardly rammed the colt into Dean’s ass, tearing something in the process, if the burning pain was any indication. He held the boy in place with a bruising grip on his hip as the gun proceeded to fuck into Dean, forcing him to rock forwards into Sam.

Dean buried his face into Sam’s neck as the deranged hunter violated them both with the harsh metal thrusts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in 24 hours! Yay, new personal best!
> 
> Going to see Guardians of the Galaxy 2 now with the fam, I'll edit on the car-ride there :)
> 
> *retreats back into the shadows to await precious comments*


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As time goes by

Dean had his arms wrapped tightly around Sam as they huddled close together in the dark closet. They’d been there, sitting in silence for a few hours this time. Dean was almost always silent now when he was near Sam. Except when Caleb took the both of them out into the main room, at which point Dean would whisper soft reassurances in Sam’s ear while the man made the brothers do awful things to each another. Afterwards, if it was a good day, they would get to eat or shower before going back into the cramped space.

Dean only seemed to find his voice if Caleb left Sam alone in the closet. Whenever that happened, Sam would put his ear to the door and listen as Dean fought, begged, and, to his horror, sometimes played along, especially if Caleb threatened to “do this to Sam instead”.

If that didn’t satisfy, Dean would be sent to retrieve Sam from the closet, but oddly enough Sam was never scared of Dean. He knew. He had heard the bargain as it was struck.

Caleb wouldn’t touch Sam if Dean did it instead. Sam was always safe.

But Dean…

After a few days of this hell, Sam found himself sitting on the damp floor of the cramped space while he listened to his older brother breaking down in the other room. The sound of Dean falling apart so completely was forming a swirling pit of darkness in Sam’s lower abdomen, as if he was hearing the sound of Dean actually dying. Finally, the door opened, streams of light blinded Sam, and a sniveling Dean was thrown in.

Sam pulled Dean into his arms, gathering up the shattered peices. He petted his brother’s hair, soothing Dean through the sobs until his big brother fell silent once again.

Time did not exist in the darkness, but Sam would venture a guess that at least a few weeks had passed since their captivity had begun.

Sam was pulled away from his thoughts as he heard the lock click.

Dean started shaking violently, as he was wont to do should any noise seep through the door from the other side.

Sam peeled himself out of Dean’s embrace and placed a chaste kiss on his brother’s forehead.

“It’s okay, Dean. You’re okay.”

Sam could feel the shivers increase.

“I’m here. You’re here with me, Dean. Just us. Dad will be back soon and we’ll be safe.  We’ll both be safe soon, just… please, stay with me.”

“s'too late.” Dean murmured, the sound more of a croak than a voice. “m'already gone…” Sam doubted his brother was even conscious of the whispered words.

 * * *

Dean was broken.

And Sam was becoming numb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to make this longer, have some ideas, but I must sleep in order to imagine more.
> 
> Let me know any thoughts
> 
> (Yay self, another chapter within a single day, guess I'm going for a personal record)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Opportunities arise

Sam sat on the floor nearby and watched as Caleb jammed his cock down Dean’s throat once again.

When the man had spent his load he used a foot to push the boy away, then proceeded get himself ready for the day.

“Tie him up, Sammy.”

Caleb tossed the restraints onto Sam’s lap without so much as a backwards glance.

Sam crawled over to his fallen brother and gently bound together his wrists, then his ankles. With a bit of effort Sam maneuvered Dean into a sitting position. He was surprised at the lack of visceral response on Dean’s part, not so much as a wince.

Come to think of it, Caleb had been fairly hands off these past few days. Hadn’t fucked Dean, via the gun or his dick. Hadn’t even made Dean fuck Sam for a solid week.

Before Sam could riddle out the man’s sudden obsession with exclusive blowjobs Caleb towered over them.

“Got some good news for y’ boys. Yer Daddy’s comin’ home today.”

With a whimper Dean keeled in on himself, fingernails slicing through the skin of his forearms. Sam instinctively tried to uncurl Dean, and managed to pull him upright again.

Well that explained the reprieve.

No visible marks, no reason to suspect any abuse. The brothers sure as hell weren't gonna tell, if only for their father's sake.

Sam waited for the catch.

Caleb kneeled down to bind Sam’s wrists and ankles as well, gave Dean’s dick a fond squeeze, then stood back up, slung a duffle over his shoulder, and left the room.

As the door shut Sam started to panic. 

Caleb never left them untethered in the main room while he was away. It was always back into the closet, or tied to the furniture. This was their chance. Maybe their only chance.

Sam wriggled around until he was at a good angle to access Dean’s restraints.  He frantically untied his brother, hands shaking with adrenaline as he removed Dean’s cock ring, fingers slipping as he struggled with the ankle knots.  Finally, Dean was free. Still naked and mottled with nearly faded bruises, but free nonetheless.

“Come on, Dean. Me next.”

Sam held out his wrists. A statuesque Dean made no move to help his little brother. Glassy eyes stared into nowhere.

 _No._ This wasn’t happening. 

“Dean!” Sam grabbed onto his brother and shook, trying to wake him from this fugue state.

This _couldn’t_ be happening. Not now.

“Dean, what if Dad gets back, huh? What if he sees us like this? Do you _want_ him to know? If he knows, he dies! Caleb ‘s gonna have him _killed_. _Dean please,_ don’t do this. Not after everything we’ve…”

Ever so slowly, Dean’s eyes panned over to meet Sam’s, his head tilting slightly.

“Sammy?”

His brother was looking at him, _really_ seeing him. Sam tried again. “Dean, help me. S-save me.”

Dean blinked.  “Save me," he echoed, a smidgeon of color returning to his dimmed eyes. He looked down at Sam’s swollen hands. “Save Sammy…”

 * * *

Sam pulled one of Dean’s arms through the jacket, then grabbed some shoes out of their forgotten bags and shoved them at Dean’s chest.

“Put these on.”

They both hastily got dressed and were ready to escape, except that Sam couldn’t find any shoes for himself.

He rummaged around the room a bit longer. 

“Screw it,” Sam grumbled, opting for socks only.  He snatched up Dean’s hand and pulled him forwards to the door just as the dreaded click of the lock echoed throughout Sam’s entire being.

Both boys froze, holding their breath as the door-handle started to turn.

 * * *

Caleb opened the motel door to find both Winchester boys just standing there, staring at him.

He looked them up and down, noticing they had donned some clothes.

“Huh.”

Dean jerked at Sam’s hand to pull his little brother behind him, acting as a shield.

Caleb laughed.

“Dean, Dean, Dean.” Caleb shook his head in disappointment. “You know you’re not allowed to wear clothes anymore.”

Dean flinched, squeezing his eyes shut for a second before glaring at their captor.

“But I guess you did me a favor. It’ll make this go a lot easier.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another day, another chapter
> 
> Eehehe, I should be applying to grad schools, or doing homework, but this story has taken over my brain and is now a continuous waterfall flowing from my fingertips...
> 
> I like it cause writing is what I want to do for a living, but I have to take care of mundane life responsibilities before I can make that dream legit...
> 
> Ahw, life and it's material obligations


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To mercurial reprieves

Dean licked his lips and gazed at the small iridescent bottle held between Caleb’s thumb and forefinger.

The boys sat on the edge of the bed as Caleb explained to them the terms of their agreement. If they drank the indigo colored serum, they would soon forget all that had happened to them in Caleb’s care, until the next time, that is.  Caleb had a spell to go with the potion that would lift the amnesia anytime he chose. “Easier for me that way. Helps you fall right back into line.” The upside to this was that there would be no chance of accidently or intentionally spilling the beans to their father. The downside, they would have no conscious reason to avoid another encounter with Caleb should John ever need a babysitter again.

No memory of the trauma meant no way to avoid it in the future.

The choice was a catch-22.

On the one hand they could be intermittently at peace, free from the burden of every horror that had been inflicted on them, albeit with the absolute promise that all of it would come rushing back as soon as this situation repeated itself. Both Winchesters knew with certainty that this torment would eventually happen again. Their father often ditched them so he could go on hunts. On the other hand, should they refuse the serum, they would be stuck with the horrific nightmares of their trauma and run the risk of their father finding out, getting him killed, and ending up in a perpetual state of torture under Caleb’s permanent guardianship.

Caleb didn’t let on that he was hoping against the latter. He didn’t want to raise the snot nosed brats any more than the next hunter would. John could take care of the boring parental duties, and Caleb would selflessly step in whenever John needed help, never disclosing the pretense of his generosity, of course.

In the end Caleb held them down and injected a syringe of the dark serum into each boy’s arm.

Sam struggled.

Dean just let it happen.

 * * *

“Come on, Dean.  Bags in the trunk.”

John turned back to Caleb who was standing in the motel doorway, watching the boys pack up their things with a melancholy smile on his face.

“I can’t tell you what a life-saver you are. Thanks for watching them.” John held out a hand which Caleb grasped firmly.

“My pleasure, John.  Really, you’ve got some top-notch kids. Call me up, I’ll look after them anytime you need me to.”

John nodded, thanked his friend again, and slipped him some cash before turning back to the impala.

“Alright boys, load up.”

Sam jumped into the backseat, carelessly slamming the door, Dean took shotgun, and the three Winchesters drove away from the monster at the motel in search of the next monster they would hunt.

 * * *

Stars speckled the night sky as the impala carved its way through the beautiful countryside.

John checked the rear-view mirror. Sam was asleep, sprawled across the back seat.

“So, you got something to tell me?”

The question startled Dean from his reverie. “Huh?”

“Caleb said you two were well-behaved young gentlemen. You wanna tell me when you started minding your manners?”

Dean snorted. “Naw, Caleb’s exaggerating. It was kindof boring really. Not much trouble to get into. We sparred a bit, practiced some hand-to-hand combat. Caleb taught us how to handle the colt better, and I saved Sammy…” Dean trailed off, losing his train of thought for a moment. “Um…saved Sammy from most of the chore work. Didn’t want to listen to his winey ass complaining all day, y’know?”

“He’s old enough to start pulling his own weight. You know that, right, Dean?”

Dean smiled.

“Yeah, but I’m his big brother, it’s part of my job.”

The family sat in silence for a while.

Eventually Dean piped up. “You think I could come with you on the next hunt? Sammy could stay with Caleb again and I wouldn’t get in the way, promise.”

Dad frowned.

“Honestly Dean-o, it depends on what we’re hunting.”

John watched his son’s face fall.

“I know you’re itching to get back in the game, but I gotta keep you safe, first and foremost.”

“Yeah, I know. I could be useful though. Been practicing, studying the lore.”

John tried to change subjects.

An unnoticed tear slid down Sam’s cheek as he lay alone in the backseat, thinking about the possibility of Dean leaving him behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters, one day, superstar
> 
> Any thoughts? Comments? General chit-chat?


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Further down the road...

“You sonovabitch!”

John slammed the monster against the brick wall, the violent act shielded from prying eyes per the curve of the alleyway.

Caleb coughed through the pain. A stream of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

“You didn’t think I’d know? That I wouldn’t find out!?”

Caleb chuckled as John gripped his jacket lapels, lifting the man’s feet off the ground. “Sure took you long enough.”

The avenging father punched him in the face, sending the pervert crashing to the ground. “You’re a dead man.” He drew his knife, ready to inflict the fatal blow.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Caleb gargled, choking on his own blood.

John kicked him in the stomach.

Caleb gave a shout and doubled over, clutching at his abdomen as he writhed on the ground. He managed to grind out a few words that stayed John’s hand.

The father loomed over the disgusting hunter “What the hell did you just say?”

“I’m…” Caleb gulped in a few rattling breaths, “…the only thing…holding them together.”

John hesitated, nostrils flaring.

“You’re just stalling.”

“No! No, wait! Really, the sp- the spellwork, it’s tied to my blood. My life-force. I’m the only thing keeping the memories at bay, keeping your boys sane.”

John kicked him again.

“Then I’ll kill you. Make those memories disappear forever. You will never hurt them again.”

John hauled the man to his feet. Caleb’s knees buckled and he went limp in John’s grasp, barely able to take in enough air to speak.

“It doesn’t work like that. I die, they remember everything! Every single time you left them with me.  All the pain- wait!” Caleb shied away from another punch to his gut. “You _need_ to keep me alive! I’m the lock and key for their minds. You kill me, you’re forcing your boys to remember everything. You’re damning them by turning them into victims, and not the kind that’ll survive the hunter lifestyle.”

Caleb waited, panting.

Minutes passed, until John slowly loosened his grip.

Caleb pressed his luck, “And you need to let me go, now.”

“Like hell I do!” John growled, lifting the monster off the ground again, hand on its throat.

“You’re gonna pay for what you did!”

Caleb took in the sorry sight of the failed father, a man an inch away from shattering just like his son had.

“If you let me go, I’ll keep their memories locked away, forever. Keep them blissfully ignorant. You want that, trust me.”

John steadied his instinct to smash Caleb’s head in.

The smaller man continued. “If you don’t let me go right now, I’ll make Sammy and Dean-o relive every waking moment they were with me. Every time you abandoned them. They’ll be stuck in that constant state of fear.” Caleb blinked up at him, desperation lacing his lashes. “What kind of father would do that to his own children?”

A rumble built up in his lungs until the scream tore itself from the center of John’s core. He let the man drop to his feet as the roar ended.

Caleb stumbled away and ran out of the alleyway like a bat out of hell.

John clenched his fists at his sides, forcing himself not to follow. He couldn’t hurt or kill Caleb, ironically, for the sake of his sons.

He stood there for hours remembering the moment he first found out what Caleb had done to his boys.

 * * *

He knocked back the last shot of whiskey.

“Tens over aces boys!”

The other hunter’s groaned as John gleefully collected his winnings.

“Shit Winchester, that was my favorite stash.”

“Shouldn’t bet your drugs if you’re not prepared to lose ‘em, Gavin,” John said with a smile, pocketing the cash and riffling through the rest of the prize junk.

The group of the hunters burst out laughing.

“Wha’d I miss?”

Paul clapped a hand onto the back of John’s shoulder, wiping tears from his eyes.

“Awh, Johnny, you’re so naive.”

John chuffed, annoyed by the hunter’s propensity to not take him seriously. “Except when it comes to poker, apparently.”

The others ignored his boast.

“Gavin don’t deal in drugs, Winchester. He deals porn!”

John choked on his drink, bringing forth another round of laughter.

When they all settled down he asked, “Porn…stash? You sell porn?”

“Mm-hmm,” Gavin beamed, leaning back in his chair. “Curate it too, when I got the time. Huntin’ sure as shit don’t make ends meet. Way I see it, porn’s a pretty harmless way to put food on the table. I’m livin’ the high life boys!”

“Or not.” Gavin yelped as one of his buddies tipped his chair backwards, causing him to fall to the ground.

“Low-life!” Paul yelled, busting a gut.

John took another swig of his bottle. _Hunters_.

* * *

That night John shuffled into his lonely motel room and emptied his pockets, storing the cash and other valuables away.

He turned over the blank DVD case in his hand, mildly curious.

Twenty minutes later, socks off, feet up, and remote in hand, John pressed “play”, ready to relax into the evening.

It took a half-a-minute before John could see that Gavin’s porn was actually gay porn, five seconds more for him to realize it was kids, and the instant before he hit the power button the camera pulled back to reveal an image that set John’s blood boiling.

The screen had barely flashed to black before John was turning it back on, seething as he got up and stalked towards the television set.

The scene that re-appeared had his teeth on edge.

It was his Sam. His baby boy, several years younger than the man he had recently grown into.

Sam was on his forearms and knees, fingers gripping the bedsheets, as he was rocked to and fro. A large hand from above was pressing Sam’s face into the mattress. Another hand pressed against Sam’s stomach before it reached down and started stroking the boy’s dick.

“ _Jesus…”_ John couldn’t take his eyes off the screen, wanted to gouge his eyes out.

John touched his fingertips to those of on-screen Sam, prevented from comforting his child by the cold glass.

John snatched his hand away as if it had been burnt, repulsed by the new turn of events.

The camera had panned up to reveal the sonovabitch that was hurting Sam, and that sonovabitch was in fact his other son, Dean, also several years younger in the video than he was now.

“Jesus _fucking_ Christ!”

John tripped over his own feet, fell backwards, and landed on his ass, all the while unable to look away from the abomination unfolding in front of him.

Dean had one hand on Sam’s shoulder and another on Sam’s hip, giving him effortless control as he continuously pulled his little brother back onto his own dick.

Sammy moaned.

John mindlessly tore at his own hair, arms locked and shaking with rage. This couldn’t be happening. Dean would never…

Dean’s eyes were dark and focused.

Too dark. That wasn’t Dean. His son must’ve been possessed, must’ve-

‘ _That’s it Dean-o. Just like that. Show baby brother how much you love him_.’

The eerie voice buzzed through the speakers, it’s source off-screen.

Just then, one of the large hands from earlier returned to encircle around Dean’s neck.  It pulled the young hunter up and back, faltering the pace of the scene. Dean’s head was turned to the side so that he could be kissed by the hand’s owner.

John’s features darkened.

“Caleb.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three in one day. Personal best this week.  
> Graduation's got me giddy, I guess.
> 
> The next chapter will require a bit of research, so please bear me. Hopefully the extra amount of chapters released today will compensate for the wait ahead.
> 
> Would love to hear your thoughts...


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fog mirror...

Sam handed him the phone with a grim face. “Hello?”

“Hello, John. This is Meg.”

Meg. The demon that had attacked his boys.

John was about to hang up when Meg started taunting him, saying that she held the life of one of his friends in her hands. He waited for more. When she let the ‘friend’ speak, John’s mouth became dry.

“Caleb?”

_“John! Whatever you do, don’t g-”_

_‘Shhh,’_ the she-demon’s voice carried through the speakers.

John looked at his two boys, Sam sat at the table while Dean stood next to him, both young men now. They watched him negotiate. Watched his face fall as he listened to Caleb bleeding out, throat slashed by the demon.

 * * *

Dean stood there, remembering the needles that had prickled up his spine the first time Caleb had raped him with the gun. Not knowing if a bullet would be fired, if he would be ripped apart from the inside, if the ricochet would hit Sammy.

And the last time he was raped with the colt. Not the legendary one his father had recently acquired.  _His own_ colt, still tucked into his waistband at this very moment. Dean remembered the utter apathy he had felt at that point. A total absence of any sense of self-preservation. No longer caring if he was to be murdered, shot from within.

Dean remembered a year ago, when Caleb had bumped into him in New Orleans. After a brief catch-up they had decided to split a motel room. As soon as the door-chain slid into place, Caleb muttered the suspension spell, and the amnesia was lifted. All of the memories came rushing back to Dean. Every, single time he'd been left with the cruel man flooded his mind. He fell to his knees, too overwhelmed to do anything, and Caleb had his way with the twenty-six-year-old, just as he had many years before. And afterwards, after Caleb had wiped his mind clean again, Dean remembered the pit in his stomach as he drove away from the Big Easy, suddenly in need of his estranged brother’s company.

 * * *

Sam saw his brother turn pale a split second before Dean ran out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter. The research didn't take nearly as long as I thought it would, so here you go!
> 
> Also, I really do have to take care of some life things, so there will probably be a brief hiatus...that is, if I can prevent myself from coming back to this story for a decent while...honestly, not likely given my recent show of willpower...oh well
> 
> Comments fuel my muse :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Divisive decisions...

“Dean!”

Sam pounded on the bathroom door that his brother had barricaded himself behind.

“Come on, man! Let me in!” Sam waited He heard the shower turn on. “Are you sick?”

No answer.

“Son?”

Sam turned around to see John. His father stood at the end of the hall, silhouetted by the kitchen lights in a way that masked his flushed complexion.

“Dad. He won’t say what’s wrong. Locked himself in.”

John cautiously approached his youngest, eyes searching for something Sam could not name.

“It’ll be okay Sammy. I got this.”

John put a careful hand on Sam’s shoulder and gently pushed him aside so that he could take his place as Dean’s sentinel.

Sam was silent.

His father was never this…gentle.

“Dean?” John spoke, forehead pressed to the door. “I need you to open the door son. Let us in. It’s safe, I promise.”

Sam didn’t know how to react to the…was that _sorrow_ in his father’s voice? So he quietly excused himself from the catawampus scene to retrieve his lock-pick kit. This sudden turn of events had his head reeling.

When he returned John was still uttering soft reassurances through the woodwork.

“Here,” Sam crouched down beside his father to get level with the doorknob.

Five minutes later Sam and John tumbled through the mishmash of a blockade Dean had piled up behind the door.  At first glance Sam thought his brother had somehow escaped through the bathroom's small window. The stand-up shower was empty and it all looked like Dean had disappeared. At second glance Sam realized Dean was still there. In the fetal position on the shower floor, naked, face pressed to the fiberglass as the scalding downpour cascaded over his fragile form.

“Dean,” Sam reached down to gather his brother in his arms as John turned off the showerhead. “Hey Dean, it’s okay I gotcha,” he said, pushing his brother’s damp hair to the side.

Despite the water-burn Dean was shivering. He looked into Sam’s eyes without actually seeing his little brother, stuck in his tortured mind.

“S-sorry Sam, I’m so sorry.” Dean tilted his head to squint up at his father. “Dad. Dad, you gotta get away. He’s gonna’, he gonna kill…he’s…”

“Shh, Dean, it’s okay. Dad’s okay. We’re safe.” Sam squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his lips to Dean’s forehead, mouthing his next words so softly that John could barely hear. “You’re not supposed to remember this, Dean. You’re not supposed to remember. This shouldn’t happen anymore.”

John cleared his throat, forcing his voice to its lowest register so he could hide the emotions it would otherwise betray. “He’s not here Dean-o. He’s not coming. I promise, son. He’s dead. I swear he’s dead.”

“No.” Dean started breathing faster, hands latching on to fistfuls of Sam’s damp shirt. “They’ll…they’ll _know_! It’s all my fault! And Dad’s gonna die cuz they’ll know it was me. I k-killed him, Sammy, but I can’t do this anymore! I’m s-sorr-” Dean buried his face in his brother’s chest, openly crying in a way that John had never seen before.

He was too late.

He’d failed at protecting his boys.

Again.

“You knew?”

Sam’s accusation brought John out of his self-loathing. “What?”

Sam shifted Dean to rest his head against the wall, then got to his feet. John instinctively took a step backwards, surprised by the rage that was radiating from his youngest son.

“About Caleb. You knew?”

John met Sam’s stare, then averted his gaze to look at the tile floor. “I…yes I found out. I saw-” John cut himself off. “I found out.” He hung his head. Considering the circumstances, John was taken aback by Sam’s lack of reaction to the spell’s breaking. Dean had shattered, but Sam, there was an inappropriate amount of calm about his demeanor. John turned the tables and asked, “Did _you_ know?" He noticed a flash of fear across his youngest'son face. "Did you, before now…did you..." His own heart stopped for a moment as he realized, "you remembered.”

It wasn’t a question.

Sam clenched his jaw as only a Winchester could.

“It all?” John asked, dreading the answer. “Every time?”

The sudden lax of Sam’s fists was enough of an affirmation for John. 

This was it. Sam’s immunity to the dark spell, and his subsequent decision to keep their situation hidden from their father. Both things had a touch of evil about them. Both things confirmed everything the psychics had told John about his son. All that they had warned him about his tainted boy was true.

“Get out.”

“What?” Only then, only at those words did his son look hurt.

John repeated the order.

“But-”

“Now!” John bellowed.

Sam stumbled over the rubble of the blockade, dodging his father’s fury as he was forced out of the bathroom.

“Dean, he needs-”

“He doesn’t need you! You’re brother. Your _own_ brother, and you _never_ told me? You could have saved him!” John screamed.  “And yourself! You could have stopped all this,” John had driven Sam to the threshold of the house they were squatting in. Nothing in his hands, nothing in his possession save for the clothes on his back.

“You _disgust_ me.” John slammed the door. He put the sight of Sam’s shocked face out of his mind as he walked back to the bathroom, ready to care for the only son he had left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't resist!
> 
> PSA: This author treasures each and every comment received


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Realizing reality

John tucked the covers under Dean’s chin, relieved his son was finally able to rest. Granted that was only because Dean had exhausted himself first. His under-eyes were puffy and his eyelids were speckled with red spots, blood veins that had burst from the intensity of the weeping. Asleep, his son now wore a bizarrely peaceful expression.

John shuddered at the memory of Dean’s grief-stricken face when he had found him in his room only a few hours ago.

* * *

After he had practically disowned Sam, John trudged up the stairs, unprepared to find a sopping wet Dean in his bedroom with a towel around his waist and a blade to his wrist.

John’s blood ran cold.

He couldn’t lose two sons in one day.

After John tackled Dean and pried the knife from his grasp, he heard more apologies pouring from his son’s lips.

“I’m sorry, I c-can’t…tried…I know I can’t l-leave, m’sorry. I need… S-sammy needs me. Gotta s-stay. Gotta save Sammy.”

John’s heart broke for the hundredth time that day.

He lifted his suddenly frail son, held him in his arms for a few minutes, then put him in bed.

John sat there on the edge of the bed, petting Dean’s hair through the waves of tears. He continued to watch over Dean long into night. Long after the sobs had given way to gentle breathing.

For all of his life-long burdens, John couldn’t imagine the weight that Dean must be feeling, with all of his trauma compiled over the years and none of it dealt with. All because the amnesia spell had rendered him unable to process. Unable to heal and move on.

“S-Sammy?”

“Hey,” John cooed. “No Dean, it’s me.”

Dean squinted up at his father, voice hoarse from the earlier lamentations.

“Where’s Sam?”

“He’s fine, Dean. Probably sleeping.”

“Okay.” Dean’s eyes slipped closed again. Before he fell back into sleep, Dean muttered. “Gotta make sure. Hope he doesn’t remember…” Dean’s voice turned to the wisp of an exhale, “…this time.”

John waited until he was sure Dean was out, then he scooted off the bed. He left the room and dug his teeth into his fist.

_Idiot!_

He was such an idiot. John had jumped to nefarious conclusions about Sam hiding their abuse, but _of course_ Dean had known about Sam’s lack of amnesia. Sam probably told him all the time. John guessed Dean’s mind was blocked from processing the warnings, unless Caleb temporarily suspended the spell. Of course Sam had told his brother about his inability to forget. Moreover, Sam was probably stuck pretending everything was honkey-dory between encounters with Caleb, for Dean’s sake.

And most likely he kept from telling his father in an effort to save John from whatever fate Caleb had threatened them with.

Sam’s decision to keep the secret was still concerning, as was his resistance to the spell, but apparently John was wrong in thinking Sam had dubiously concealed his immunity.

The mistaken father turned to the stairs.

It was time to go find his son.

* * *

Sam stared at the door, arms wrapped around his middle, barely able to keep from dropping to his knees.

_You remembered._

His father’s whispered words echoed through his head like a siren, consuming his mind.

His father knew. _Knew_ that Caleb’s spell had never made Sam forget. He’d riddled it out of him, somehow. He knew that Sam had never once let on to John that he and Dean were being abused.  And that omission had lost him his family. His home.

This was his worst nightmare coming true.

Sam noticed he could see his own breath. The broken young man turned to face the lonely white-covered world.

He sat down on the doorstep for what seemed like hours, watching the blue sky fade into darkness, stars hidden by the glow of the streetlamps.

Only when he realized he was numb to the bone did Sam decide it was time to get going and get gone.

* * * *

John stepped outside, closed the front door, and another wave of guilt washed over him, brought on by the thick layer of snow covering the ground. That, mixed with the fact that Sam hadn’t been wearing a jacket.

John took a deep breath, letting the chill of the crisp air fill his lungs. He watched as the exhale became swirling clouds of mist that soon faded into the night.

Knowing his son’s prowess for hitchhiking, the kid was probably half-way to Cheboygan by now.

And Dean was safe and sound.

Time to get searching.

John made his way towards the impala, pausing when he noticed the set of snowy footprints leading in the same direction.

Footprints. Not bootprints.

“Damnit.”

John hastened to the impala. Peering through the backseat window, he could make out a curled up form of his youngest on the far side, teddy-bear-brown hair illuminated by the hazy glow of the streetlamps. At least Sam had found a coat.

John flung the car door open.

Sam startled awake, saw his father, and tried to scramble backwards, but was blocked by the closed door. “Sorry! I’m sorry! Dad. I m-meant to leave, tried I swear but-” Sam grimaced, close to hyperventilating, “…m-my shoes weren’t in the trunk, and I wasn’t- with my feet, I couldn’t- I was just gonna stay ‘til m- ‘til morning, I promise! I’ll leave in the morning, but…” Sam hung his head, finally letting the tears fall. “I couldn’t find any sh-sh-shoes…”

“Sammy…” John ducked his head to climb into the car. He extended his arms, intent on holding his son now and asking for forgiveness later, but he was taken aback when Sam started screaming.

“No! D- no, no, I’ll be good! Please don’t, I’ll be good…” Sam trailed off into a mantra of _I’ll be good-_ s and for the first time John saw that scared young Sammy, cowering before a man too monstrous to defy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to start doing a weekly update, every Thursday evening to fill the void of the hiatus.
> 
> Non necessarily for the same story, but I plan on posting a new chapter for at least one of my stories every week.
> 
> Enjoy :)


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